


Painted Stars

by Excaliburstark



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: A smattering of bamf Merlin, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Nazi Germany, Alternate Universe - World War II, Angst, Caring Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Human Experimentation, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Magic Revealed, Pacing? Who? Never heard of her, Prisoner of War, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28245141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Excaliburstark/pseuds/Excaliburstark
Summary: Arthur is a POW. When he finds a young man chained and strapped to a machine with tubes protruding out of his skin, does he bring the boy with him or make his escape alone? Arthur faces a hard choice and an even harder journey.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 73
Collections: Round Table Gift Exchange 2020





	Painted Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElizaStorms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizaStorms/gifts).



> To the lovely ElizaStorms, I hope you enjoy this fic! Wishing you a very Merry Christmas! ❤️ Thank you so much for your great prompt, I love Merlin whump. Have a good one!
> 
> (Sorry it's not Christmas themed)

Arthur felt cramped. He supposed considering his very unfortunate circumstances, leg cramp should be the least of his worries. He lay amongst an uncountable number of toiling bodies, sweat soaked and all packed too close together, a tight knit blanket of people. The stench of a hard days labour and the gaunt faces and grumbling stomachs should've been much higher on his list.

His arms were tired, muscles tense from lifting things all day and his body was sore. His legs were curled in an attempt to get some space from the sleeping bodies enclosing him. 

His forehead was sweaty, his hair sticking to his fringe and his muscle cramp leaving him unable to sleep despite the mental and physical exhaustion he'd endured. And so he lay, eyes heavy from lack of sleep and no doubt permanent indents of dark circles under his eyes. 

Arthur wanted to roll over but there was no space. 

He looked up at the dark ceiling of the tunnel and wondered where he'd be if his plane hadn't crashed so close to a German regiment. 

Would he be at home? Would he be in a plane somewhere else? Would he be in hospital back in England? Would he be dead?

Surely anywhere was better than here; damp, hot, lonely, crowded and in enemy territory. 

He was reminded of what Uther, ever the Patriot, had said when Arthur enlisted as a pilot. _"Don't let them get you. You fight them all, kill the bastards, but don't let them get you. If you get caught you're on your own, and that son, is a place that no soldier ever wants to be."_

Arthur imagined what Uther would say to him. Probably something along the lines of _It's your own fault. Why did you let yourself get caught? Didn't you listen to my advice?_

He envisioned his father's pouchy cheeks flushed red and the large vein in his forehead pulsing as he shouted. 

It's how Uther had reacted when Arthur told him he'd enlisted. Despite his patriotic streak it seemed Uther didn't want Arthur fighting the war. Uther had been in the first world war and hoped his son would never face the horrors he had. 

Arthur knew Uther's anger usually stemmed from love but it still didn't make it pleasant to face. 

Arthur sighed and rolled over again, knowing it was useless to attempt sleep but trying anyway. 

He heard something. It echoed and there was a hushed scuffling followed by some whispering. 

Arthur stayed still but turned his head slightly, so that his ear was in the direction of the noise. 

It was common for the prisoners to speak as they worked. Drifting rumor's spoken in low voices floated from person to person. Some intelligible, others in languages he didn't know. Some things he could just piece together from the French lessons his father had forced him into when he was younger. He'd hated them at the time but he was grateful for them now. 

Once the work stopped and the day ended, the talking ceased and it was silent. Arthur couldn't guess what time it was but nearly everyone was asleep except for whoever was scuffling about. 

Arthur froze when the voices got louder, he realised it was German being spoken. 

_"The boy is sleeping now."_

_"We will continue the experiments tomorrow."_

The footsteps and chatter receded, fading as they went down the corridor. 

Arthur's heartbeat was in his throat. He'd been stashing supplies, hiding them for when he made an escape attempt. Had they discovered his stock pile?

He'd mapped a route in his head, counted the guards, the days and hours of the change over and who it was changed to. He'd got enough food to last a few days and he could forage once he was out for more. He had it all planned out but the closer he got to the event, the higher his trepidation climbed. 

His paranoia was on high alert and his lack of trust in both himself and the others heightened his worry. 

He didn't sleep that night. 

It was finally here, the day he would escape. He had all the provisions he needed and his hopes were high. The change over of guards was to happen shortly and it was then that Arthur would attempt to flee. 

He'd snuck away from the other prisoners of war and was making his way along the tunnel. He crept along until he heard the voices of German soldiers and panicked. 

He'd timed it correctly, he knew he had. It was supposed to be the change over, why wasn't it the change over? Instead, there was some kind of gathering taking place at the guards post. 

Five Nazi's were grouped together, talking in German. Arthur's throat felt dry and he swerved into the nearest tunnel opening. 

He abandoned his escape plan in search of cover. If he was caught now, it would all be over. He'd be taken back to the group and shot as a warning to the others not to attempt escape. 

It had been hidden, a barley visible door in the corridor that he had fled down. He stumbled into it and it opened out into a cavernous room.

Arthur's eyes surveyed the surroundings. The ceiling was higher in here but still dark. A huge machine made of metal with many buttons and levers expanded over one while side of the space. Arthur marvelled at it. 

He followed the wires that dangled down from it and was shocked to find them attached to a man kneeling on the floor. 

Arthur startled, taking a step back. He scrambled for something to defend himself with.

The man looked up at him, his wide eyes staring right into Arthur. Arthur flinched and watched him, wary. 

"Bitte." The man said, though he was more a boy really. His face was vibrant but trauma had marred it, blood and grime streaked his skin. His eyes were unfocused, a sluggish red dripped down from a graze at the boy's hairline, his lip was bitten and split. He had bruising on the left side of his face and his posture was bent as if he were bereaved. 

Arthur leaned closer, he stared into two pleading blue eyes and found himself tracing the man's features. His dark hair curled, matted as it was, his cheekbones were a sharp slant and his face gaunt. His pale skin was almost translucent underneath the dirt.

"Bitte." He said again, his voice scraping through his throat. He seemed dazed, his chest heaved with laboured breathing and he winced as his back grated against the wall, making the chains rattle. 

That was when Arthur noticed them, the chains and the tubes. The boy was strapped to the floor, wires were fastened to his head and tubes dug under the skin of the boy's wrist. 

Arthur realised the boy was connected to the great whurring machine that dominated the space. He looked to the machine and noted the charts, the up and down of liquids being used as some kind of measurement. 

Blood flowed from one of the tube in the boys wrist, thick and red as it sluggishly moved down and into the machine. Another tube pumped some sort of fluid back into him. 

Whoever this boy was, he was an experiment. They'd taken him and plugged him into the machine. The boys eyes were sunken, his blown pupils made his hollow cheeks more prominent. 

Arthur was horrified. 

"Hilf mir," The boy murmured, head lolling a little as he tried to keep eye contact. Arthur noticed the boy was trying not to shift too much, a pained grimace covered his face when he did. 

Arthur had to make a decision. The boy was German, Arthur had detected that much, and he was in pain. If he left him, he could die but if he brought him it might prevent his own escape.

Arthur swallowed and half turned away but his conscience berated him. He breathed out a sigh and crouched down, levelling with the boy. 

"What's your name?" Arthur asked. 

The boy blinked slowly, dazed. 

"Name?" Arthur repeated. 

"Merlin." The boy said in slurred, accented English before his head nodded to Arthur. 

"I'm Arthur." 

"Arthur." Merlin repeated, testing the flavour of it in his mouth. "Arthur." 

"I need something to break the chains. Where can I find something like that?" 

The boy's brow furrowed. He didn't understand. 

Arthur realised this and made a motion of chopping the chains and then miming searching about. 

Merlin pointed his chin to the corner of the room. Arthur found a set of medical looking equipment. He swallowed as he picked up one with blood on it. It was some kind of teeth pulling instrument, Arthur dread to think about it.

He returned to the boy. First, Arthur took the tubes out of his arm. Blood splattered from it and the boy looked ashen and woozy. 

He wished Morgana was there, she'd know what to do. When she had announced she was going to be a nurse Uther had grown quiet and pale, withdrawn, as if his children had already died.

Arthur pushed aside all that and focused on getting them out.

Arthur tried to tell him to move his hand away but the boy didn't respond. Gently, Arthur took his hand and shifted it, so that he could break the bindings. He did the same on the other hand and the manacles on his feet. 

"Danke schoön. Danke schoön." He muttered, sounding half delirious as he repeated it again and again then once more.

Merlin was weak and swaying. He seemed so small, so fragile. He had bird bones and an aura of vulnerability. 

Arthur leant the boy against him as he started to droop forward. Arthur heaved the wounded boy up and placed his arm around Merlin's thin waist so he could help him walk.

Arthur's heart sped faster than his thoughts. He couldn't catch up and his eyes flicked around the tunnel on the lookout for potential guards. He'd left his supplies behind in order to carry Merlin.

As they approached the guards post, Arthur set him down against the wall. Merlin stirred at that, looking distressed. Arthur put a calming hand up and a finger to his lips. Stay here, stay quiet. Arthur didn't dare speak when so close to escaping. 

Arthur had brought the tool he'd used to free Merlin. He gripped it in his hand. It was easier than Arthur thought it would be to lift it and smash it over the first unsuspecting guard's head. 

He'd crept up behind them. The first guard was out cold, the second one reached for his gun and Arthur hit him so hard that the edge of the metal scraped against the man's head and caused a gash to appear, a blur of blood welling there as he went down. 

Arthur dragged the two bodies, one at a time, towards where he'd left Merlin. 

Arthur wrestled the two soldier out of their uniform and passed one of them to the boy. Arthur hadn't planned on this but he'd always been one to improvise when the situation needed it. 

The ragged looking boy had been so deprived, he was little more than a skeletal frame. The uniform hung off him. 

Merlin limped a little, Arthur grabbed his arm to hasten him ignoring the boy's flinch. The mounting pressure of being so close to leaving overtook everything else including being gentle. 

They marched towards the exit of the tunnel complex and into the open air. 

The sun was bright and shining despite the chilly weather. Merlin had forgotten what it felt like. He touched his own cheek, stopping for a moment. 

He hadn't seen daylight in so long, it burned his eyes but Merlin refused to close them. Tears gathered but he didn't care. He felt a hysterical feeling bubble up in his chest. He was out. He was alive, he was alive. 

There was light. 

Merlin felt like sinking to his knees and weeping or flinging himself at Arthur in thanks or running away and hurling himself into the wild. 

He felt overwhelmed and disoriented, his head spun and his stomach lurched, a mixture of emotion and dizziness making him feel sick. The bright light of day made dark spots dance across his vision and suddenly the kind man was by his side, talking to him in a language he didn't yet understand. 

Arthur, Merlin repeated in his head. The man was called Arthur. 

Arthur touched his shoulder with his own, a silent gesture to keep moving. 

Merlin straightened. They walked over to the exit. Merlin counted in order not to rush his steps.

There were only one guard at the check point. He'd planned all this but he hadn't planned Merlin. He couldn't just leg it like he'd been imaging he would. Now he had to go slowly, compromise.

What if they were questioned? Arthur didn't speak German. His feet felt like they had weights on them, slowing him down. He wanted to speed to the exit but knew he couldn't. He couldn't raise any suspicion. 

Arthur glanced at the boy from the corner of his eye. What if Merlin was a set up? Was he really being kept down there or was this a buffer, in case someone escaped down the tunnels? 

Arthur was overthinking. They wouldn't chain up an officer as some elaborate plot to catch out prisoners trying to escape through the tunnels. What was the likelihood that the time and exact room would match up? Besides the frightened look he wore, Merlin's face half twisted with fear was enough to know Merlin was genuine. 

"Halt." 

They both froze.

"Wohin gehst du?" _Where are you going?_

Merlin swallowed and turned to him. "Wir haben den Befehl, die Grenze zu überprüfen." _We have orders to check the perimeters._

The soldier nodded, head jerking to the side as he admitted them through the gate.

Inhaling through his nose, Arthur's fists unfurled. He'd clenched so hard his nails stuck. He shook his hand out and ignored the throbbing crescent marks on his palms. 

They were just clear of the camp when the alarm sounded. Merlin had been found missing or Arthur's disappearance had been noticed. They didn't have much time. 

They shot through the trees, flickering through them, two whispering figures in the early sunlight. They ran and ran, legs pelting the ground, pedalling the mud in their sprint to escape. 

Panting and sweating, they paused for a moment before continuing. 

They grasped branches as they stumbled away, slipping on mud banks before grabbing each other's hand, tugging one another along as they fled. 

There was shouting in the distance, German orders that Arthur didn't understand and that made Merlin turn whiter than before.

They hid, knees pressed together tucked side by side in the undergrowth. Merlin was unstable, wobbling a little. He jostled a little when Arthur grabbed his arm to stop him from rustling the leaves and alerting the others of their location. 

Footsteps crunched to Merlin's right. Merlin moved a little and Arthur's arm tightened on him, his hand wound round to cover Merlin's mouth. He held his breath and didn't move Arthur's hand off him. The footsteps marched in a different direction. 

They had walked for hours; feet dragging, throats parched. 

They had paused at one point to strip off the Nazi uniforms they'd stolen, their own clothes had been underneath. They made sure to burn them but didn't wait to see the uniforms perish. Instead they'd marched forward, continuing the long journey. 

Their exchanges were wordless, they communicated with gestures though Merlin often looked puzzled at them. When he did the wrong thing Arthur didn't shout, he showed, so that Merlin would understand for next time. 

Nighttime was fast approaching. Merlin was determined to march on, to get as far away as possible but Arthur had started to lag behind and they soon stopped. 

Merlin watched. Arthur's hair glittered, silvery in the nightlight as the shadows of the forest outlined him. He was a smudgy figure and Merlin stared, wondering if any of this was real. 

Maybe he'd finally lost it or this was another test. He didn't trust Arthur but what choice did he have? If it was another experiment they wouldn't have let them get this far, they were close to the French border. 

Merlin didn't know where to go. Germany was his home, had always been but he couldn't go back. 

The moon was a high waxy oval in the dark sky. They bunkered down together, backs against one another in an attempt to provide some warmth. 

Merlin didn't want to close his eyes. He wanted to breathe in the fresh air and forget the air of the dank room in that tunnel. He wanted to savour this moment, look at the sky and the trees and the moon forever. 

Eventually sleep overtook his desires. 

When they woke, Merlin was cuddled in an embrace. He lulled softly into wakefulness, warm arms bracketing his chest. He blinked. 

Arthur jolted awake, none of the easy slowness of Merlin's morning. He looked stressed, chest rising up and down as he looked around him before looking down at Merlin curled up against him. He moved, wrists pushing into the mud and the grass as he shuffled away. 

Merlin felt his cheeks reddening. Arthur wasn't looking at him though, he was eyeing the area, checking for intruders. 

They didn't talk about it, the cuddle. 

They didn't talk at all. 

They travelled three more days and slept three more nights before Merlin spoke. 

"What will we do when we get to France?" His voice was clipped by his accent. 

Arthur startled. "You can speak English?" 

Merlin nodded. "Yes, it's finally kicked in, my-" He stuttered. "My English. The drugs they put me under made it hard to focus."

A more pressing question burned in his brain, making him forget his last one. 

"What year is it?" He asked them repeated it with an increased frantic, urgent quality. "Tell me. What year is it?" 

"You don't know?" Arthur frowned, eyes glancing over Merlin. "It's 1940." 

Merlin gasped. "1940?" 

Arthur looked concerned. 

Merlin half fell and ended up sitting on a nearby tree stump, all colour had drained from his face. His mouth moved but he was speechless. He played with his fingers subconsciously as the information sank in. Merlin rubbed his hand over his face. 

"Two years," he whispered. "I've been in captivity for two _years_." 

Arthur crouched down in front of him. "Merlin? 

"They had me in there for two years. In that room. Attached- plugged to that thing." Merlin's voice grew louder, Arthur reached forward but Merlin pressed back, nearly falling over. 

"Why did they have you in there, Merlin?" 

Merlin fell silent. Arthur bit his lips, worried he'd dashed his chances to get to know Merlin before they'd begun.

"I was a pilot. I am a pilot, I mean," Arthur started, partly talking to distract Merlin. "My aircraft got gunned down and I got caught and transferred to the prisoner of war camp. God, I never thought I'd miss gravy or bananas. Or Morgana, she's my sister. I hope she's okay. She's a nurse. I'll never forget my father's face when she told him." 

It was the most Arthur had spoken in months and he couldn't seem to stop, words poured from his mouth sentences rolling on like water in a flood. Merlin seemed happy to float in the torrent of speech. 

"I'm hoping when we get to France that we'll find some english troops that'll take us in," Arthur said. "My father was quite high up in the military, I'm sure someone at base will know who I am and help us." 

"Us?" Merlin latched onto that. That meant Arthur wasn't planning on ditching him or leaving him behind. 

Arthur managed a small smile in response before it dropped. "Why were you in that tunnel, hooked up to whatever that was?" 

Merlin turned his face away, refusing to answer still. 

Arthur drew up a bit and nodded. 

"So, you have a sister?" Merlin prompted. 

"Yes," Arthur smiled absentmindedly. "She's rather... Well, she's alright. I think it's very honorable that she wants to help and be a nurse but I do worry for her. I can't believe my father ever thought she'd be happy to stay at home and sit quietly. He doesn't know but she's been to a few political rallies and worn trousers and all sorts of outrageous things." 

"What's England like? I've never been." Merlin asked. 

"Oh. Uh, again it's alright. Lots of green rolling hills. There's a river very near where I live, I used to go down to it every summer to try and catch fish. When I wasn't doing that I was reading or wandering around the house. I've long grown out of it but I used to sneak into my father's office all the time because it was a forbidden room. There were so many books in his study and papers- miles and miles worth of papers." 

"There was a canal where I grew up," Merlin said."But it was used for industry and it was too dangerous to swim in. I'd love to visit England someday and go in the rivers there." 

Arthur helped Merlin to his feet as they talked. The sense of unease between them had evaporated, though they'd hadn't reached trust yet they had laid down the foundations. 

They kept going, chatting as they walked, exchanging stories to ignore the burn in their legs. 

They were skirting the French border. 

Arthur decided it was high time to have some proper food. He'd made off to find a rabbit, making sure to keep Merlin close by. 

He hadn't realised quite how clumsy or noisy Merlin was, he rolled his eyes when yet another rabbit started running away. 

"You're going to get us both killed!" Arthur's exclaimed in a moment of frustration. "With your loud clod hopping feet, I'm never going to manage to catch anything and then we'll starve."

"Is that right, clotpole? Suppose you won't be wanting any of this rabbit I just caught then, if you're intent on starving."

Arthur turned to see a cheeky grin on Merlin's face as he proudly held up a maimed rabbit. 

Arthur couldn't help the surprise in his face. Merlin raised an eyebrows. 

"How-"

"Amateur," Merlin muttered in his mother tongue and traipsed his way back to the clearing.

"What does that mean?" Arthur called.

Merlin continued walking.

"Merlin," Arthur followed after him. "Merlin, what does that mean?"

They found somewhere to settle, a quiet spot near hedgerows. 

Arthur was setting up a fire, he'd been beating two rocks together for the better part of an hour. The sun was fading and the flames were yet to appear.

Merlin wished he could use his magic but it was repressed, far away. Whatever they'd done to him, his magic had fled and Merlin couldn't seem to call it back. All his energy reserves had probably gone into keeping him alive and not letting the enemy get what they wanted. 

His magic was locked up tight and Merlin didn't know the passcode. He tried not to dwell on it too hard. He had hoped that when the drugs they'd been giving him wore off his magic would return but no such luck so far. 

Merlin sighed. They needed the fire, the night would be a cold one and hungry as he was, he wouldn't eat raw rabbit. He looked determinedly at the fire. 

Arthur tried again and a spark flew. Another strike and the fire crackled to life, kindling burning. Arthur crowed a victorious sound. 

Merlin blinked. Was that him? No, it can't have been. He would've felt it, he would've-

Arthur was beaming wide at his success. Their shared gaze lingered as the fire crackled. The rabbit had warmed them and made them drowsy.

They settled with their backs together as they had done all the previous nights, this time with their bellies full.

Merlin's sleep was fitful. Once he finally settled he spiralled into dreams that turned dark, his oath was shrouded and he was blind. He called out Arthur's name but he was greeted only by shadows. 

He dreamt of clocks ticking, whirling around his head an ominous tick tock. The grandfather clock that had adorned the entrance of his childhood home appeared with it's ominous tick tick tick.

He dreamt of the experiments, of the harsh demands to perform magic, of the tubes and the medical instruments used to torture him into submission. His bones dissolved, his side ached. His teeth all torn out, the pinprick of another injection in his arm. 

When he woke, he was being shaken and his name was being called. He realised he'd been screaming and stopped, gasping and shuddering as Arthur came into focus. Merlin grabbed Arthur's forearm and clutched at it. Real, real. He was real. 

"Merlin, it was a dream. It was just a dream. You're okay," Arthur reassured. Merlin removed his hand from Arthur's arm.

Merlin was still rocking even though Arthur's hands weren't on him. He realised it was himself, shifting from one side to the other as he hyperventilated.

Merlin's voice caught on a sob and he rolled away, burying his face in his arms, his legs curling up as he shook. 

Arthur left him for a moment but Merlin's cries weren't quiet. He sounded like a wounded animal, his fingers dug into the ground, and it pained Arthur. He crawled up behind Merlin and tried to soothe him by stroking a hand down his back. 

"Merlin." Merlin's face remained buried in his hands, he heaved in choked breaths. 

"Stop, please," Arthur's voice was quiet. "You'll make yourself sick."

"Merlin, copy me," Arthur insisted until Merlin did. Arthur started breathing loudly, slow, steady breaths that Merlin followed. 

Merlin calmed and Arthur relaxed a little. Merlin shivered and Arthur lay next to him. 

They both watched the stars above them as Merlin's tears finally dried.

Merlin woke before Arthur. 

He went to pick at the hedgerows, stripping the bushes of berries. He ate some as he went, saved others. 

Merlin came back, shirt folded in front of him to form a makeshift pouch that held the berries. Arthur heard him approaching and woke up. He relaxed upon seeing it was Merlin and half slumped back to the ground. 

Merlin sat down carefully next to Arthur and the two dug in. There was an awkward silence at first but Merlin soon found conversation. He acted as if nothing had happened the night before. Arthur was happy to go along with the pretense but beneath it all he worried. 

Merlin caught him off guard, smushing berries along his cheek. Arthur gasped at the cold, slimy texture. 

"Ah, much better," Merlin said, grinning. 

"Oh, much improved am I?" Arthur said, a handful of berries ready to be smushed back into Merlin's face. 

Laughing and shoving at one another, they eventually wiped the berries off and ate the remainder of them that had been tucked away safely. 

The moment of peace and tranquility was over. They had to pick up pace to make up for the slow evening.

As they walked, Arthur's mind was cast back to Merlin's nightmare. He still felt uneasy about it. He wasn't sure what had happened or what had haunted Merlin's dreams but he felt rattled as he recalled the distressed whimpers that were wrenched out of Merlin as he balled up on the forest floor. 

They marched on.

They were a few miles over the border by now but the threat of recapture wasn't gone. 

He had left Merlin to check the surrounding area, he was just heading back when he felt the cold hard butt of a weapon at his back. 

Arthur froze. The weapon poked at him until he raised his arms and turned around slowly. 

There was five of them, dressed smart in their uniform. 

"Look what we have here," one said. 

Arthur didn't understand but he did recognise the swatsikas adorning their arms. His eyes snapped around the woods, searching for Merlin. 

The soldier moved forward, brandishing his weapon with arrogance as if he were about to squash a bug. 

Arthur darted forward, grabbing the man's arm and forcing the end of the gun to swing round, back towards the soldiers own troops just as the trigger was squeezed. Two of them went down, one shot in the chest, the other their thigh. 

Arthur clutched onto the soldier he'd managed to capture, he crushed the guy against him as his troops shot back at them. 

"Eine Kugel ist zu gut für ihn." The Nazi soldier spat, halting the hail of bullets. 

_A bullet is too good for him._

Arthur let their dead comrade slide to the floor. 

They attacked, fists forward and Arthur's face unprotected. Arthur kicked back, foot slamming into the soft flesh of a stomach, his knuckles shredded as he continued to pummel them into one of the soldiers. Arthur took a heavy hit to the face and heard something in his nose crack, blood flowed and his ears rang dully as pain washed over him.

He spat, salt and iron conjoining with his saliva as it flew out his mouth and into the dirt. 

His skin glittered with sweat, he heaved air. His hands were shaking and his tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth. He lay still for a moment, his opponents grip was like a vice. Tiredness and unequal numbers put Arthur at a disadvantage but he fought one the less, striving to give as good as he got. 

Merlin had ran upon hearing the gunshots. When he arrived, Arthur was on the ground, struggling to hold the two soldiers off as they battered him. One held him down as the other raised his first again, preparing a hard blow. 

"Don't touch him." 

The sharp planes of Merlin's face were stark in his fury. His blue eyes were determined, his teeth gritted. 

His mouth tasted crimson and a red haze blinded him as anger rioted in his head. He felt the tingle of his magic swell with his anger. His dark eyelashes cast shadows. Magic surged in him, thrashing like the sea during a storm and ready to crash down upon his enemies. 

The soldiers were caught off guard, Arthur shoved them, dislodging them from him. They scrambled, one reached for a mislaid gun, the other was back on Arthur within seconds. 

"I said don't touch him!" Merlin screamed, energy surged from him, pushing the two soldiers. They slammed back against the trees and crumpled to the floor where they lay there, silent, necks twisted at an odd angle. 

Arthur felt sick. He felt fear. He crawled back, trying to get away from Merlin. 

"I don't know why I was born like this but I'm not a monster. I have magic but that doesn't make me evil," Merlin says, fierce and strong. His voice betrayed him, wobbling on the last word. 

Arthur's expression hurt. 

Merlin grit his teeth against tears, stomach jumping. "I didn't want to kill them, I didn't want to but what choice did I have?" 

"Arthur?" Merlin asked. Arthur doesn't even hear him, his eyes are wide open and fixed on Merlin.

He wonders what the hell he's taken, where is the Merlin he was getting to know? What is this lab experiment, had he always been like this? 

Something ugly crossed his face.

Merlin saw it. He breathed noisily, courage collapsing. He'd lost his only friend. Tears pricked his eyes and sluiced down his cheeks. 

Overwhelmed, deplated and unable to bare the look in Arthur's face, Merlin fell to his knees.

"Arthur I-" he sniffed, "I'd never hurt you, Arthur, never." 

Arthur didn't know what to say and couldn't seem to help the reflex as his hand darted out to grab a gun. 

Merlin felt betrayed. He felt he deserved it too.

He cowered, shoulders bowing as he knelt.

He'd been brave for so long, too long. He thread his fingers into the grass, curling his hand into the dirt and closed his eyes. It was reassuring somehow, that he had gotten to feel the grass under his fingertips once more before it all ended.

Arthur saw Merlin's reaction and was shocked at his own. He threw the gun aside. Merlin's eyes flickered open at the sound. 

"Wh-what, I thought-" 

"You did what you had to. But I feel I deserve an explain," Arthur demanded as he walked over to him. He hovered for a moment before sitting down besides him.

Merlin nodded.

"I have magic," Merlin swallowed. "My father was a peace ambassador. He had been at the peace talks, before the war. I was with him on the day he was- When he was stabbed. It was right after a conference. I saw him fall on the stairs, saw the red seep from beneath his fingers and over his stomach." 

Merlin wet his lips and his hand hovered just below his ribcage, mimicking his memories.

"I was dragged away. My dad died and I don't know if my mother was killed, I don't know..." Arthur rubbed his shoulder. 

"My dad had always been paranoid, my mum too. They told me to never use my magic where people could see. I should've listened to them. I only used my magic in public once, it was years ago now. Germany had been holding the olympics, we'd been invited to attend."

"My dad had been terrified for weeks after, wouldn't let me leave the house. He and my mother used to talk in whispers when they thought I was asleep. I didn't understand why we kept packed bags in the closet or why they'd flinch when there was a knock at the door. I was too young to understand, too stupid." 

"It seems the Nazi agenda has had their eye on me for a long time." Merlin said, bitterly.

"After they killed my dad, I was sure they'd dragged me off to kill me. I remember the ceiling in the building they kept me in. It had painted stars covering it. I soon realised that death wasn't what they had in mind for me. They took me down into that dark room and plugged me into their machine, kept me drugged, so I couldn't fight back while they experimented on me. They were trying to replicate my magic. Weaponise it, weaponise me." He shuddered. 

"My father always said, _look up at the stars and you will find home_. I haven't seen real stars in two years, not until you. You got me out of there and I saw the light again, I saw the stars again." 

Arthur consoled him but still seemed hesitant before he embraced the boy. Neither of them had felt the comfort of a hug in a very long time. 

"I haven't felt real in two years," Merlin's voice was quiet. "But I am real. I _am_ real." 

They stayed for a few minutes longer, huddled together, before Arthur felt compelled to speak. 

"We should go, I don't know if there are more soldiers coming. We need to go." Arthur winces and gets up. 

"Wait," Merlin said, standing as well. "Here, let me. You're hurt."

Standing close, he put his hand on Arthur's chest and closed his eyes. Arthur saw the flash of gold then felt as it traveled, a soft caress along his skin, healing him. 

Arthur looked in amazement, the forming bruises faded back to the peach pallor of his skin, his cuts were healed to thin pink lines. He reached for his nose and felt along it, it was fixed. Arthur looked at Merlin, no longer with fear but with awe. 

Merlin cleared his throat. "Anyway, you're right we should get going. Others will come searching for them." Merlin tried not to look at the bodies littering the ground.

The dazzlement faded and Arthur's mud streaked face and tight line of a mouth became chiseled stone again, rigid and unmoving as he absorbed everything Merlin had told him. Although he wasn't worried about being attacked with magic anymore, the whole thing had shaken the trust that had been forming. 

Arthur carded his fingers through his blood spattered hair, wincing as it tangled, the dry matter knotting together. 

He was relieved when they reached a wide stream. 

Arthur was desperate to feel clean. His fingers were wet with blood, it coated him like red paint. Arthur's breath stuttered as he examined his hands. 

He'd always been told to fight for what he wanted but he wasn't sure how much he wanted this: blood and battle, kill or be killed. In a war both sides always lost. 

He scooped a handful of water and seemed puzzled that it was not the icy temperature he had expected. 

He looked down at it and saw their reflections in the river: a man with golden hair and another with golden eyes. He smiled slightly that Merlin had been considerate enough to make the water warm before he rubbed at the skin of his palms, his wrists, his thumbs. 

He was so busy cleaning, washing the grime, mud and blood off that he didn't see Merlin starting to slump forward. 

Merlin fell face first into the cold water; exhausted, tired and hungry. It shouldn't have been a surprise. He hadn't used his magic to such an extent for years, he hadn't used it at all in the last two years. 

Overexertion was inevitable.

The cold water shock had Merlin spluttering, he choked as he swallowed some. He reared back from the stream, clothes soaked through. 

Arthur grinned. "You clumsy dolt."

Merlin threw him a disgruntled look.

Thoroughly scrubbed, or in Merlin's case thoroughly wet, the two slunk off.

They delved further into france. Merlin tripped and shivered, Arthur's concerned eye was cast over him often but he couldn't let themself pause, he could feel they were close to safety. 

He gave in when grey clouds clogged the sky, darkening as rain threatened to pour. 

They came across an empty out building, possibly an old sheep shed that had since been abanonded. They used it as shelter from the brewing storm. 

The space was mostly bare, a creaky old wooden door that looked ready to fall off it's hinges and a few patches of half rotten hay were it's only notable features.

They didn't risk lighting a fire this time. Instead they huddled together, lying side by side, arms brushing instead of back to back.

"Thank you for healing me." Arthur said, voice low as the thunder rumbled above them. He watched Merlin's silhouette and saw Merlin's sleepy smile in the half light. 

"Of course," Merlin replied.

The outhouse, abandoned and messy as it was, had lent an element of intimacy. Arthur could hear each of Merlin's breaths and the crinkle of their clothes as they shifted. 

They leant heavily against over another. Arthur couldn't feel that Merlin's clothes were still damp, couldn't see his dark hair curled where it had been wetted. He saw an incredibly brave, admirable and dare he say it beautiful man. 

Arthur had been aware of his preferences for a long time. His sister had guessed before he had. Uther had guessed too but unlike Morgana, he had thought it wise not raise any questions. 

Arthur was also aware that he had admired Merlin for quite some time. 

Arthur remembered how Merlin's eyes had flared gold and how he'd felt frightened and thrilled at the warning Merlin had bellowed to the soldiers. He remembered how soft Merlin looked in his sleep, his jaw lax and his brow unwrinkeled. 

Arthur was leaning in before he realised it, his lips landed softly on Merlin's. He pulled back immediately, shocked at his own actions, but Merlins mouth sought his out. Merlin pressed forward, bringing their mouths back together in a long hot press, lips melding gently. Arthur cupped Merlin's head, grabbing one ear to deepen the kiss. 

They broke off, foreheads leaning together. 

"Sleep," Arthur breathed. "We still have a long way to go. I'll gladly kiss you again but only when I know we're both safe."

Arthur was smiling sightly as he turned over. His fingers touched his lips as he closed his eyes, remembering the kiss. He started dropping off to sleep, too tired to wonder at the miraculous warmth he was cocooned in, too comfortable to question it.

He awoke later, cold and alone. The door was ajar and letting in a draft, water spat into the building in a steady cascade. 

The warmth at his side was gone. Merlin wasn't in the building. 

Panic started to bubble in Arthur's chest. He walked out into the storm, rain beat down on him. 

"Merlin?" Arthur called, seeing a shadowed figure. 

"Mutter? Vater? Bist du da? Arthur?" Merlin was walking in circles, wet and fevered. "Arthur?" 

"Mutter? Vater?" He repeated. Some sort of vapour was pouring off him, almost like steam. 

Arthur stumbled, reached out for him. He gasped and withdrew his hand at how hot Merlin's skin was beneath his grip. 

Merlin turned towards him, confused. "Wer bist du? Wo-" 

Merlin's eyes shone before they rolled back into his head and his footsteps faltered. He slid to the floor. Arthur surged forward and caught him. 

Wincing as he dragged Merlin back to the barn, both from Merlin's weight which pulled on his own wounds and from where his hands endured Merlin's boiling skin. Arthur thought it a miracle that Merlin was still alive. He'd never felt a fever so high before and seen the person live to the next hour. Worry bit at him. 

He lay Merlin down in some hay, not nearly as gently as he'd have liked. Arthur ensured Merlin was comfortable until he figured out what to do. 

Arthur wondered if he should leave Merlin in the rain in an attempt to cool him but his instincts told him not to, there was something unusual about this fever. Merlin had been shivering and cold after they had stopped at the stream. Arthur thought hard. 

Merlin whimpered, groaning a little before he started thrashing. It stopped as soon as it had started.

Arthur grabbed his sweaty hand and dropped a kiss to Merlin's brow. "Come on, Merlin. You've got this far, keep fighting." 

Arthur divested Merlin of his shirt and took off his socks. 

Arthur collected the rain water in a leaky bucket he'd found. Merlin had gasped and shuddered when Arthur applied the water to Merlin through gentle twists of cloth.

Arthur continued his ministrations for hours, wrists and knuckles hurting at having twisted the strip of material so many times. 

Merlin's hallucinations and memories merged, he'd shouted and twisted, grappled half concious with Arthur.

Merlin recoiled from the soothing wet cloth at the height of his delirium, shouted in German, cursed in English and tried to throw off Arthur's assisting hands. He'd stilled, silent for a moment before his voice had weakened to pleads. 

Merlin now resorted to mumbling. He no longer shifted away from Arthur or the cloth. His skin seemed clammy but cooler.

The worst of it had passed. 

The fever broke with the dawn. Arthur's relief had been palpable, though not to Merlin who was still too out of it to notice.

Arthur felt exhausted, he hadn't slept since he'd found Merlin. Worry had put him through the ringer, he had stayed by Merlin the whole night, watching closely for any change.

Merlin looked up at him, Arthur hadn't even realised he was awake. 

"Thank you," he said quietly. 

"Of course," Arthur echoed. It made Merlin smile. 

Arthur's smile was soon overshadowed by determination. 

"We will get through this, together." The last word was emphasised, their eyes were locked and their hands linked. 

"We just have to keep going," Arthur continued. "We'll be home soon, I can feel it."

"Home," Merlin whispered, so full of hope it made Arthur ache. 

Merlin's eyes had began to close again, tiredness taking him over. 

Before he fell into the depths of sleep, he managed to ask a question. "Did we kiss? Was that a dream too?" 

He felt a hand stroke the side of his face. "It was real." 

"May I have one more then, please?" 

Arthur huffed a half laugh and complied, lips curved upward in a smile as he placed them on Merlin's. 

They remained for a few days, Arthur wanted to ensure Merlin was well enough to continue. Merlin had wanted to set off as soon as possible, as he'd said many times. 

He'd explained his magic had gone into overdrive trying to warm him up after he'd fallen into the stream. After having excercise show magic for the first time in years, it had overexerted him. He insisted he was fine. Despite his own anxiety at staying in one place too long, Arthur was just as adamant that they stay until he was sure of Merlin's well being. 

Merlin was deemed recovered and they left the outbuilding. Arthur sent out a silent thanks that they'd been lucky enough to stay there undiscovered whilst Merlin had been ill. 

They'd kept pace and made good time. They must be close to their destination, Arthur had urged them to go on. 

Arthur was about to step out when a sharp inhale and a hand at the back of his shirt tugged him back. 

"Idiot!" Merlin shouted, breathing hard, eyes wide with fright rather than anger. 

Arthur looked puzzled. Merlin shook his head. "It's a minefield." 

Arthur looked out at the seemingly innocent field. "How do you know?" 

Merlin raised an eyebrow. Arthur rolled his eyes. 

"Can we cross it?" Arthur asked. If they were to go around they were more likely to bump into people, it would also add time to their journey and Arthur wasn't sure how long either of them could keep going. 

Merlin's analysed the field, his head tilted to the right. "Yes. But you'll have to follow me closely and step exactly where I do." 

"I promise." 

Nerves twisting, he followed Merlin. He tried to keep his footfall light and his boots landed exactly where Merlin's did. 

There was only one step left. 

A distant shout in a harsh tongue sounded followed by a gunshot and the world exploded around him. 

Merlin yanked him forward and threw himself over Arthur. The explosions continued. Merlin rolled them away from it, kneeing Arthur as he did so.

"Soldiers, we have to go. They've come for me. We must hurry." He said into Arthur's ear. They were soon on their feet.

They ran, lungs burning, eyes watering as white spots danced across the floor.

Panting, they stopped for breath. A tank passed by, Merlin shuddered as it destroyed wherever it roamed. It crushed plants and snapped the twigs beneath it. Arthur reached for Merlin's hand. Merlin squeezed back, grateful. 

They were near the harbour when they had been stopped on the roadside, walking through one of the villages. A regiment returning to base offered to give them a lift. They fully questioned them before letting them aboard, though the interrogation ceased when the name Pendragon was spoken.

Merlin seemed hesitant to speak but when he did, Arthur was surprised to find it was in French. 

"You speak french?" Arthur asked. 

Merlin looked bashful. "I speak every language and none at all." 

Arthur was stuck on the riddle for quite a while before realising what it meant. Merlin's magic translated everything automatically. Arthur thought there would never be a day where he would not marvel at Merlin's abilities.

They reached the bay, a mix of troops from various nations were scattered across the sand chatting within their sections. 

Arthur spotted the British troops and hurried to them, dragging Merlin with him.

One of the soldiers, a burly man with bronze hair, did a double take as they approached. 

Arthur froze. "Leon?" 

"Arthur!" 

The two embraced and patted one another on the shoulder.

"You're alive," Leon stated, amazed and glad. 

"My sister?" Arthur asked, tone anxious. 

"Alive and well," Leon reassured.

Merlin kept his distance as the two conversed and caught up. It was clear they knew each other from before.

Arthur introduced Merlin when he wandered back over. He put his arm around Merlin, brought him close as he told Leon what he could without raising suspicion. 

Arthur soon whisked Merlin away, saying he needed to discuss something with him. It made Merlin nervous. 

"What is it?" Merlin asked, tugging Arthur's hand. 

"Germany has invaded. Troops have been pushed all the way back to here. There is a risk that we will be recaptured," Arthur spoke fast, voice low. 

Merlin took a step back, head shaking. They'd fought so hard to get here, for what? To get taken in again as prisoners? 

"Hopefully it won't come to that. That's worst case scenario. The head offices are-" Merlin didn't hear any of Arthur's reassurances. Merlin's ears were ringing, a fuzzy buzzing noise. 

Arthur's mouth formed Merlin's name, his hand outstretched. Merlin jerked away and stumbled off. He still couldn't hear properly, the sand beneath his feet made him slower, his heartbeat pounded faster but his movements seemed sluggish. His breathing lagged and he struggled to inhale. It felt like his chest was compressed, his lungs seized.

"Merlin!" Arthur was shouting in his ear and holding him, arms circling around his waist. 

Merlin gripped Arthur's arm, his chest, his lapels. Arthur pulled Merlin against him and Merlin finally breathed, exchanging a sob. Arthur held him, rubbing his back and he whispered nonsense.

Merlin calmed, he disengaged from Arthur. "Sorry," he managed to say. 

Arthur shook his head. "Don't be." 

It all happened very fast after that. 

Reports came, telling that German soldiers had forwarded their armaments. They were nearly upon Dunkirk. There were mere days left before they would arrive. Panic ensued at the news, every rank of the armed forces floundered. There was no plan, no backup and no help arriving any time soon. 

An evacuation at this size in the short time they had available would be impossible. There were only a handful of boats in the harbour, all of them were used to evacuate as many men as possible but the number left stranded was dolorous.

Merlin felt duty bound to help. "I have to do something." 

"Like what?" Arthur sounded dejected. He saw the glint in Merlin's eyes.

"No," he said plainly. 

Merlin looked defiant. "Why not?" 

"It's too risky. Your magic cannot be discovered, Merlin. There are soldiers from many countries here, anyone of them could try and claim you, use you." Arthur argued.

"You would let all these people die-" 

Arthur looked furious at the suggestion but his anger battled with his worry. 

"I can't lose you, Merlin, they'll lock you up again and experiment on you. You were so weakened during that fever, I-"

Merlin hadn't remembered much of it but Arthur did. The mix of English and German and the pained noises he'd made as his temperature blazed. It had left Arthur with no doubt of the hell Merlin had endured in that room. 

Merlin bit his lip. 

"What if it's my fault that they're here? Maybe they came looking for me, took over the whole country to try and get me." 

Arthur wanted to discard what Merlin was saying but he wasn't so sure himself. If they thought Merlin was the key to winning the war, they probably would invade France to find him. 

"I have to help." Merlin repeated.

Arthur's uncertainty remained in his mouth. Arthur knew of Merlin's stubbornness, there was no way around it. 

"What do you have in mind?" He asked begrudgingly.

Merlin was a genius. If they weren't surrounded by other people, Arthur would kiss him. 

Merlin had taken heed of Arthur's advice not to take on an army and instead directed his attention towards doing what he could for the men on the beach. He was regretful that horses, armament and food would have to be left behind. War was brutal and the reminder was far too present. 

Merlin's magic had combed the ocean for the nearest usable vessels and dragged them forward, tugging then towards the beach. He'd hardwired nearly 500 boats to the bay. 

The soldiers were saying it was a miracle. Only Arthur knew it was Merlin.

Merlin made sure Leon was in one of the first things back despite his insufferable honour. Arthur had ended up pushing him into the boat. 

Arthur had also insisted that they get on a boat as soon as they could. Merlin had been as uncomfortable as Arthur had at the idea aid leaving people behind whilst they travelled to safety but they both recognised the safety of these men depended on Merlin. If Merlin were caught, it would put the others in jeopardy. 

Arthur's reasoning made sense but guilt tugged at his heart for his secret selfishness. They boarded a small fishing boat, they sat at the back as far away from the others on board as possible.

Merlin continued his work, as he would for the next few days, calling out to boats as he himself sailed away. 

He stood. The slap of sea against the small boat and the cold whip of the wind on his face, flushing his cheeks red, was the best thing he'd ever felt. The feeling of freedom. 

Arthur was safe and Merlin was by his side. 

Merlin's fingers slipped between Arthur's and squeezed as they watched for land. 

The stars winked, shining brightly overhead but Merlin had no need to look to the stars anymore. He had his own star, his ursa major. 

He was home.

fin


End file.
